


Hit and Run

by 13thDoctor



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Banter, Blood, First Kiss, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Masturbation, Jessidy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassidy gets mugged and stabbed in an alley and Jesse comes to save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit and Run

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Hit and Run](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7705408) by [sweetsunn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsunn/pseuds/sweetsunn)



> Cassidy is a bloody riot, and this show is just great. I'm looking forward to many more interactions between these boys. Kudos and comments are appreciated as always. Enjoy!

Proinsias Cassidy, a belligerent, one-hundred-nineteen year old vampire, was, for obvious reasons, not one to be mugged, especially by a group of rowdy teenagers on a Friday night. And yet there he sat, swishing his hands idly through a pool of blood that belonged to whatever poor sucker had been his last victim, staring at a gaping hole in his abdomen. He supposed, really, that it was all Jesse Custer’s fault. The man had asked for no more trouble, and eating five high school football players alive seemed like it would fall in the ‘trouble’ category.

“Shite,” he muttered at the scarlet waterfall in his stomach.

At least he was in an alley, where avoiding the sun wouldn’t be a problem. Catching fire after this irksome incident would require explanations that usually resulted in a massacre. That would be a headache, and he didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good living situation.

Again his thoughts drifted to that preacher, and he shook his head and grumbled at himself. There were much more important problems to fix. How blood spouted out of his body when he tried to stand was definitely one of them. The fact that the liquid had spread far enough to make its way around the alley corner was also a tad discomfiting. He’d forgotten the impact five very determined knives could make when entering flesh, not to mention when being wielded by relatively muscular individuals.

The only money in his wallet had been stolen from the church; in a way it was justice, he conceded. God Almighty buggering him again. He just wished he hadn’t been so distracted and tipsy when he walked onto this forgotten path, or he would have seen them coming.

“What the fuck?” someone yelled.

Cassidy knew that voice, but the world was a little fuzzy at the moment, and everything felt too far away and too close all at once, so he thought it was maybe just his head amplifying illusions of the one person he really wanted to see right then. Even when Jesse came running around the corner, nearly slipping in the massive amounts of blood—the sight of him flailing to stay upright sent Cassidy into incredibly painful, hysterical giggles—he thought it was all fake.

“9-1-1, I’d like ta’ report an emergency,” Cassidy strangled out, laughing. The blood in his mouth tasted days old and he gagged.

Jesse seemed concerned. “What the fuck happened?” The vampire smiled.

“I’m lyin’ in a pool of blood, ya’ wanker.”

“Is it _your_ blood?”

Cassidy glanced around and then lifted his hands and legs like he was paddling through shallow water. “I suppose it ‘tis, yeah.”

“Where is it coming from? Were you stabbed?” Cassidy thought for a moment that if the idiot man would maybe look at his chest, not into his eyes, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to ask that question.

He sighed. “Oooh, I do think so, Padre.” He narrowed his eyes and arched his brows mockingly. “Unless it belongs to you.” Which it could, if Cassidy ever felt so inclined.

“Jesus Christ, we have to get you to the hospital, Cass.”

Waving him away, Cassidy leaned back into the pool and felt it soak through what dry clothes he had left. “Oh no, I’ll be _fine,_ jus’ get me a bottle of somethin’ nice and strong.”

Jesse grunted, unamused, and went to lift him. The hands on his side sent bullets of pain through his ribcage and he gasped involuntarily before biting back the sound. The preacher immediately relocated those hands to his friend’s face, stroking his thumbs gently over Cassidy’s jaw. Cassidy found himself grinning foolishly again and schooled it into a scowl. When Jesse moved away, it became a frown, but then he heard the ripping of clothes.

“Ay, Papí,” Cassidy stammered, affecting possibly the worst Spanish accent Annville had ever heard. “I woulda’ stabbed _myself_ long ago if ‘tis was ta’ end result.”

“Cass?” Jesse said, looming above him. The sleeves of his shirt were torn off completely and wrapped around his hands. Blood painted his wrists and everything below, as well as a small part of his forehead where he had brushed back his hair. That obscene hair was sticking up in odd places, spiked and flat all at once, just as dark and wild as Jesse’s eyes.

Cassidy was unbelievably turned on.

“Mm?” he asked, trying miserably to appear nonchalant.

“Shut up.”

The preacher got to work, looping the makeshift bandages around Cassidy’s extensive wounds. After a brief struggle of Cassidy smacking his hands away and making gleeful protests, Jesse finally managed to cover all the punctures. He sat back, surveying his handiwork with his mouth set grimly.

Cassidy lay on his back, staring up at the dull grey roof. Behind it, the safety of night stretched. He couldn’t remember the time, but he wished he was drinking right now instead of getting soggy with a preacher in a dank alleyway in Texas. It all seemed like another bad country song.

Jesse was still looking at him, all determined and distressed. “If I didn’ know any better,” Cassidy coughed, “I’d say you were worried.”

“Cass, you look like you’re already dead. I have to move you and I _really_ don’t like that idea.”

The vampire’s mouth flopped open and closed like a fish. There were so, so many issues with that scenario. One—he was already quite dead, had been for a long time and had continued to die in increasingly disgusting situations over the years. Two—Jesse carrying him meant Cassidy being close to a warm neck, and he didn’t see that situation ending well. Three—the sun, damn it to Hell, was on its way back out eventually, and the catching fire thing, while simply uncomfortable for him, would not bode well for the living human attached to him. Thus at the risk of sounding completely ungrateful, he responded, “No.”

“I’m sorry.” Jesse’s gaze was unflinching, his thickly accented voice hard and stern. “I don’t think I heard you clearly.”

“Oooh, Padre, don’ be coy. Really, I’m fine.” He touched his abdomen, where blood was already seeping through the new fabric. “Ya? See. Fine. I’ll be on my way.”  By some miracle he stood, swaying like a drunk as he did so.

Jesse caught him before he hit the pavement again. Their chests were pressed flush together, Jesse’s arms around Cassidy’s bleeding body as he sagged under the weight of dying. Again. But where were the damn cows when he needed them?

“Look a’ me, Padre, you were probably on your way ta’ get a drink an’ I interrupted ya with ma bleedin’ and nonsense. Jus’ pu’ me down and I’ll fin’ ma way back home.”

“Would that be the godly thing to do?” Jesse asked cheekily, but his smile did not reach his eyes.

Cassidy always found this interesting, when humans that gave a shite about him saw him in mortal peril and assumed this was the end. The vampire had even told his preacher the truth, a few sentences shared over a bottle of liquor, but no one ever believed him, not even Jesse Custer. Jesse Custer, who was already limping as he dragged Cassidy out of the alley. His friend’s pale face was set solidly on his own two feet, anywhere but buried in Jesse’s neck like he wanted.

He vaguely registered Jesse making it into the bar, calling an ambulance, inspiring the fear of God and his righteous man in the little Texas town’s citizens. He hadn’t felt this bleary in a while, mostly because it hadn’t taken him this long to get some blood back in his system. The ambulance ride was an interesting one, with the lone EMT telling Jesse that Cassidy was lucky to be alive, let alone conscious.

“He should be dead.” _I am, idiot._

“I’m sure glad he isn’t.”

“Thas’ nice…” he managed. He thought perhaps that Jesse was holding his hand. The man was probably praying; Cassidy wished he wouldn’t do that.

And he was slightly ashamed of it, but when they got him inside the hospital, he was strapped into a gurney in the hallway and left alone with a single nurse. When they came back to take him to surgery, she was gone and he was his normal, boisterous, blood-filled and blood-soaked self, though slightly woozy. Another meal was definitely on his wish list.

Because his recovery would take more than a single draining, the knife wounds were still present. Though not as deep nor as fatal anymore—to humans, that is—they were absolutely hurting and ruining his mood. The doctors found this newfound betterment overwhelmingly puzzling. They almost had him under anesthesia when they actually got around to ripping his shirt open and exposing punctures far less severe than they had anticipated. Shouting about the inadequacy of EMTs, the surgeon had another nurse take him away to be stitched up in the ER.

When the poor man leaned over him to start the sutures, Cassidy found his next meal.

Sated, he plopped down into his wheelchair, read his chart to find his room number, and wheeled himself to the intensive care unit, which, in Annville, was really just another wing of the normal building with a label that denoted it as somehow better for intensive care. Humans had a way of blocking out the truly bizarre, and a mad, half-naked Irishman covered head-to-toe in blood zipping through the halls was thankfully a bizarre sight.

Cassidy was able to enter his room unnoticed. He peeled off his unreasonably tight jeans and left them sitting on the floor at the edge of his bed. He then took full advantage of a shower, washing away the grime and filth of his day with shoddy water pressure. Grinning toothily at the shower head, he rubbed at the spot where he’d been stabbed and only felt a dull ache that meant it was recently healed. And because he had plenty of time, he jacked off to the image of a blood-covered Jesse Custer on his knees. There was no use denying that rather persistent fantasy.

Once clean, Cassidy plodded around his room in a pair of stolen scrubs, shaking the ankles now and then like a child playing dress-up in its dad’s too-big clothes. He was thankful he had grabbed his chart before they were able to search his very nonexistent medical records, or his ancient birth certificate, or get him pinged by those vampire hunting wackjobs. He stretched a little and wondered what would be an appropriate time for him to leave without the staff getting too suspicious, without Jesse getting too believing.

The door clicked open before he could make that decision.

“You seem better?” Jesse asked in disbelief.

 _Oh, dammit._ “Yah,” he drawled, and promptly pretended to faint. It was a dramatic movement, all lanky limbs suddenly going weightless in a heap. The linoleum bit at him where his oversized shirt rode up, but he sucked it up to witness his friend’s next actions.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Cass,” Jesse yelped, and sprinted the few feet over. Cassidy worked very hard not to smile. “Fucking shit of a hospital, leaving you alone. Fuck, you’re heavy.”

Cassidy could barely remember the last time he had been carried. He wasn’t overly fond of it, because it meant giving up most of his autonomy. Sometimes it also felt demeaning. But the hands slipping under his body were placed with kindness, the grunts of Jesse somewhat struggling under his weight joyously entertaining, and the press of his body, the scent of it, was easy fodder for future showers.

When the slide of the hospital doors sounded, Cassidy had a brief moment of absolute panic when he considered that the sun had to be out by now. But my some grace of God, if he actually believed in such a thing, Jesse had covered him completely with a blanket, probably to hide him from the hospital staff as they escaped. He even left it on for the car ride back, bundling Cassidy up in the backseat.

Cassidy definitely should have faked waking up by now. He should have stretched out, feigned confusion, giddily punched Jesse on the arm while teasing him and thanking him relentlessly, but mostly teasing. He should have complained of hunger and thirst like any normal human being.

He definitely did not do any of these. Instead, he burrowed comfortably in the car’s leather interior. He made Jesse carry him into what he assumed was his house, tuck him into bed, and turn the lights off to let him sleep.

Being a vampire, Cassidy did not sleep. He laid awake and stared at the ceiling and considered masturbating before remembering it was not his own bed and he was supposed to be recovering anyway. Determined to make the best of a shite situation, he inhaled contentedly and stored the scents around him for future use. He knew Jesse would be awake the whole night, so there was no way to join him without shattering the human charade he had going for himself. The vampire got as close to sleep as he could, shutting down his brain for a few hours and closing his eyes. Recovery. In Jesse Custer’s bed.

Maybe not so much of a shite situation.

He stirred sometime in the late morning, with sunlight filtering through the curtains in Jesse’s room. Warm and bright, it permeated the open window with a light breeze. Annville’s weather was beautiful that day, with a clear sky and a high, welcoming golden star nestled above.

Cassidy’s eyes flew open and he scrambled out from beneath Jesse’s carefully tucked blankets. “Holy fucking shite!” he screamed, noticing the small fire on his shoulder. He rushed around the room before seizing the stagnant water glass on the bedside table and dousing his bare skin with it. Then he got back on the bed and poured some on the currently burning bedsheets.

Footsteps and the door swinging open. Jesse stopped dead at the sight of Cassidy jumping up and down on the bed, blowing on his own shoulder and hollering like a cowboy at a rodeo at some unseen attacker.

He inquired incredulously, “What kind of drugs did they give you?”

Cassidy stopped jumping. He gracelessly sat, an untraceable action of being very tall and then very small and cross legged in the middle of the bed. “Haaa, ta’ good ones, Padre. Ha.”

Jesse exhaled slowly. He ran his hands through his messy strands of hair, approaching the bed before unexpectedly situating himself on it beside Cassidy. He laid his head on the pillows and shoved at Cassidy with his knee, staring at him from beneath a hand that he kept using to rub the sleeplessness from his eyes. Cassidy was truly speechless, overcome with something he hadn’t felt it such a long time, something that never ended well.

“That was a stupid thing you did, getting stabbed.”

“Oi! Me? Tell that to the filthy little rat bastards that put their knives in me. For the extra cash goin’ back to me grannie, mind ya.”

“I’m sure.”

“Believe it, Padre. Fuck, I could go for a smoke.”

“Jesse.”

He probably hadn’t heard that correctly. “Mm, what?” Cassidy really had to stop losing himself in those dark eyes.

“My name’s Jesse. We’re in bed together, so the least you can do is call me by my first name.” There was so much sparkle in his eyes, nothing in the least helpful to Cassidy, who couldn’t tell if it was banter of flirting at this point. “But Cass, I meant it’s stupid ‘cause, well, I like havin’ you around, and I’d hate to see you go.”

“Really?”

“Don’t make me repeat this shit just because you’re feeling mopey, asshole, ‘cause I won’t.”

“I have a better way to say it than by repeatin’ it.”

“What the fuck are you talking ab—”

A little warning bell went off in Cassidy’s head simultaneously as he thought, _fuck it,_ and he folded his lips together before separating them and bending forward to kiss Jesse. The angle was awkward as Hell, and he accidentally fell forward straight onto the preacher, which he played off to the best of his ability but Jesse noticed all the same. He laughed, which broke their kiss, but immediately he was back for more, cupping Cass’ jaw in his hand and sliding their bodies together.

“I like havin’ you around,” Jesse whispered straight into his ear, letting his teeth linger on the lobe before he pulled back.

Cassidy cackled boisterously at him. “Here ya are, repeatin’ it anyway, you dirty liar.”

Shutting him up was much easier when he could finally kiss him.


End file.
